The Prodigal Son
by plainjane
Summary: The war was over, but not without casualties. As the wizarding world attempts to put itself back together, they must deal with the disappearance of their hero and his return as something unrecognizable. GoF, OotP, HBP spoilers. Rated for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: you know the drill; don't own, don't sue…

* * *

No one could have forseen the devastation or evil Voldemort had been capable of in the end. As the war intensified, fought not on battlefields or forests but in homes and safe havens, the disappearances became more and more frequent. They became closer to Harry. No one could have been sure if they were killed or kidnapped.

The worst was realized in the graveyard. Not where they had met before, but where their past laid in wait. The graves of his parents stood by solidly as Voldemort stepped out of the darkness, alone. His side had suffered too, only a handful of Death Eaters remained alive and loyal. But there were enough. Enough for…

A hooded figure shoved a body into the clearing between him and Voldemort. As its head rolled to the side, he recognized the face of Lupin. He stepped toward his friend but stopped at the sight of Voldemort's ward pointed directly at him.

"He is only unconscious." The cold, high-pitched voice he had heard so many times before told him. Harry felt his heart lift slightly.

Another figure was pushed into the clearing; a pair of spectacles fell off the face, revealing the open vacant eyes of Professor McGonagall. An odor of something he couldn't quite place permeated Harry's nostrils. A third body; Arabella Figg. A fourth tall body was unmistakably Kingsley Shacklebot. Harry's jaw dropped as the figures continued. Mad Eye Moody. Harry stared at the remarkably calm face of Voldemort and the wand still pointing directly at him.

Harry's stomach leapt to his throat as he recognized Neville's plump frame and Hermione's bushy hair. His worst fears were being realized; Voldemort was using his friends and those he considered his family against him. He hadn't even known Hermione was missing; he had last seen her at the Weasley's this morning…

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes as another plump body was hurled into the pile, bearing a hand knit jumper and the distinct short red hair of Mrs. Weasley. As Harry watched in horror, three hooded figures struggled to drag the limp, enormous body of Hagrid to the pile, and Harry finally placed the smell that was growing with the pile of bodies.

He had only ever smelled it once before; on a rare trip in the car with the Dursleys. Eight-year-old Harry had stood in the pouring rain while the Dursleys huddled under an umbrella, watching a mechanic examine their flooded car engine.

Gasoline.

Harry shook his head, trying to wake himself from this nightmare. The bodies had been doused in gasoline. Voldemort had returned to his half-blood roots and turned to a Muggle device of destruction.

Voldemort's long legs stepped over the unconscious bodies and into the center of the pile; the remaining three Death Eaters joined him, albeit reluctantly.

"And here we stand, Harry." Voldemort's cold red eyes pierced his skin, burning it. "At an impasse. I grow weary of this battle, this constant stalemate. I cannot kill you. Not the easy way, the protection and charms so many of your friends offered you sealed this. So I offer you this; kill me. Now."

Harry stared.

"You have two choices, Harry. Kill me now, or don't. If you don't , my Death Eaters and I will leave and continue our war against those who stand against us. There will be more deaths, pure-blood and Muggle alike, and I will find a way to kill you Harry. Believe that." He smiled coldly at Harry and the tip of his wand, held high above the pile of bodies, ignited.

"But if you do kill me," he continued, "I will not be the only one to die tonight. With me, I will take my three faithful followers, and number of your friends, Harry. You kill me and my wand will fall. You grew up in a Muggle world, Harry," he laughed slightly, "you have heard the dangers of fire and gasoline."

Harry's mind had frozen. His body was immobile. He couldn't comprehend the situation. He only saw flashes of what was going on before him.

Red hair.

Square spectacles.

A hip flask.

Hoods.

Those snake-like red eyes.

Fire.

"Come Harry, we cannot wait for you all night." The high voice pierced his thoughts, jerking his brain to life.

He stared at the pile of bodies. His friends, protectors, teachers; for as long as he had been in the wizarding world, those people had helped him. He couldn't –

His eyes met Voldemort's. Harry knew more than most the unwavering resolve of the creature – it could not longer be called 'human' – in front of him. Voldemort would never rest until the world, both wizard and Muggle, was under his control. Anything or anyone that stood in his way would be dealt a fate no one deserved; torture at the hand of Voldemort himself and a slow painful death, hearing his high, cold laugh. Names began invading Harry's head, reminding him of the casualties of the many battles fought over the years since Voldemort's ascent to power. Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric, Neville's parents, the Bones. Members of the Order Harry had only heard about; the Prewitts, Dorcas Meadowes, Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick, Marlene McKinnon. His own parents. So many of them had died fighting against Voldemort and his followers; Harry couldn't let their deaths mean nothing –

Harry's couldn't breathe; he was drowning in nothing.

"Harry." Voldemort's voice took on a tone of taunting, echoing his thoughts. "Do you really want all their lives to go to waste? Your misguided Headmaster? Your beloved godfather? Your precious parents?" His laugh became higher and higher –

A jet of green light flashed from Harry's wand and hit Voldemort squarely in the chest. Time seemed to stand still as an expression of shock registered on Voldemort's face before passing quickly into a blank stare. He began to fall.

Tears blurred Harry's vision; an orange blur erupted in front of him and the force of the heat knocked him backwards. He scrambled to his feet, not looking, hearing screams that weren't there over the roar of the growing fire.

He ran. He didn't know how long he had been running or what direction he was going, he just knew he had to get as far away from there as possible. As far from the fire, the graveyard, his friends, the 'Chosen One' label, his life as he could get.

He ran until his legs gave out and the hard earth came rushing up to meet him. The mud on his face stopped the burning; the frozen ground gave him respite. He curled up to the cold earth, praying for the end.


	2. Chapter 2

A.Muggle – thanks for the glowing comments. I'll try to keep updates coming pretty regularly.

Disclaimer: you know the drill; don't own, don't sue…

* * *

Sunrise filtered through the heavy draperies covering a small window, landing on the lime green robes of a young witch sleeping in a cushioned chair. An older witch entered the room and spotted the sleeping girl, she smiled with an expression of understanding and pity. Crossing the room, she gently nudged the witch's shoulder; it was hidden under long, flaming red hair that clashed horribly with the lime green robes. 

The girl stirred and opened her eyes in horror. She quickly glanced at the lightening window and back at the witch in front of her.

"Oh, Madge, I'm so sorry! I was taking a quick break and I must have drifted off –"

"Not to worry, dear. Things have been slow tonight, no one has missed you."

"I'll get right back to work." The younger witch started for the door, but Madge caught her by the arm.

"Ginny," She said gently, "You need to go home. Look at you; you're exhausted." Ginny began to protest, but she knew the older witch was right. This wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep on a break. She sighed and nodded. She grabbed her bag and traveling cloak from a hook on the wall and left the room with a soft "thank you."

Madge smiled in return and turned to the small table at one end of the room. With a flick of her wand, she conjured a sandwich and some juice. Spending ten hours on the Spell Damage floor of St. Mungo's had drained her energy, but she knew the young witch needed the rest more than she did. With everything Ginny had been through in the past six years, it was amazing she hadn't cracked under the pressure yet.

Ginny hurried down a flight of stairs and across the lobby of St, Mungo's to a small room off the main hallway. A sign next to the doorway indicated this was the "Apparating Room." Ginny whispered the password "dragon pox" after checking the hallway around her, after all, they couldn't have patients disapparating themselves out of the hospital. The door clicked and Ginny entered the small, plain room, making sure the door locked behind her. With a 'pop', Ginny was gone.

She apparated into the main room of her tiny flat. She looked around at the mess that had accumulated; clothes littered the floor and much of the furniture, unwashed dishes were piled in the sink and on the countertops and small kitchen table. She knew she could clean it all up with a simple spell, but she simply didn't have the energy right now. She discarded her traveling cloak and work robes on the floor on the way to her bedroom and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head.

* * *

"Mum, I'm home!" Ginny called, opening the door to the Burrow. She walked in, pulling her traveling cloak off, and observed the empty room. She glanced at the clock on the mantle place; all the hands were pointing to "Mortal Peril", as they had for several years now. Cloak and bag in hand, she stuck her head in the kitchen to find Ron and her father sitting at the kitchen table.

"What are you doing home so early, Ginny?" Ron asked as she slumped into a chair. Ginny stared at him.

"Ron, it's nearly six. What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, pulling a large text out of her bag and setting in on the table. Ron looked at his watch.

"When did that happen? And where's Hermione?"

"Wasn't she going to visit her parents today?" Ginny asked. Hermione had moved into the Burrow after she and Ron had finished Hogwarts, thinking she would be safer there than with her Muggle parents, and she and Ron had announced their engagement just a few weeks ago. Ginny loved having her at the Burrow; it was almost like having a sister.

"Yeah, she Apparated over there this morning, but she said she'd be home in time for dinner." Ron replied, looking concerned. He left the kitchen and returned a moment later, muttering, "That bloody clock is completely useless anymore."

"She probably just lost track of time. She'll be home soon." Ginny reassured him, opening her book, intending to memorize the seven characteristic signs of Spell Damage.

"So how did your first day go?" Her father asked, looking up from a blueprint that looked suspiciously like a Muggle toaster. Ron caught her eye and grinned.

"It was interesting." Ginny replied. She had just begun her post-Hogwarts training to become a Healer at St. Mungo's. "Right now, there are a few general Healing classes and we spend six months working in the reception area before we become Trainee Healers.

"Speaking of dinner, where's Mum?" Ginny asked.

"She's out fighting with the gnomes over the last of the potatoes." Her father replied, still pouring over the toaster blueprint.

"No she's not." Ginny frowned.

"Sure, she is." Her father finally looked up. "She's been out there all afternoon. She's planning on cooking for fifty tomorrow, since your brothers, Fleur and Harry and some of the Order will be here."

"I'm telling you, Dad, she's not out there. I apparated into the garden when I came home; there's no one out there." Ginny paused as a terrifying thought gripped her mind. "You don't think…" She couldn't finish.

Ron stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over. "I'm apparating over to Hermione's parents to see where she is." He declared, righting the chair with a flick of his wand. Ginny watched through the kitchen window as he strode out of the house and vanished with a faint "pop".

Ginny turned to find her father had vanished as well. Crossing the room in a few steps, Ginny found him in the other room at the mantle place, cursing at the clock.

"Dad?" Ginny stepped into the room, her heart beginning to pound.

"Ron's right." He said, his voice unnaturally steady as he turned to face her, "that clock hasn't been working right for a while now." He smiled forcefully. "I'm sure you're mother just popped down to Diagon Alley for something she needed; you know how she gets when everyone comes home."

Ginny nodded faintly, trying her hardest to believe him. But she knew her mother would never leave, even just to visit Diagon Alley without telling someone. Her paranoia had increased over the last several years, especially since Ginny and Ron had left school. Harry had been chasing after Voldemort and his Horcruxes for a couple of years and Molly worried for him just as much as she did for her own family.

Hearing another "pop" from the garden, Ginny hurried to the kitchen. A head of bubble gum pink hair could be seen through the door and Ginny opened it, mildly disappointed.

"Hi Tonks." She greeted the older girl, who looked as distracted as Ginny felt.

"Hi, Gin. Arthur," she turned to the table where he had taken up with his blueprint again, "have you seen Remus lately?"

"I thought he was meeting with Minerva at Hogwarts and reworking some of the security measures."

"He was. But I haven't seen or heard from him in a few days. I thought maybe he had stopped by here looking for Harry."

Ginny's breath caught. She slipped out the open kitchen door and into the garden. She stopped just past the hedge and curled up on the ground, her back to the hedge and the house. She took several deep breaths, telling herself everything was going to be alright.

Ever since Dumbledore's death, everyone's nerves had been on edge. Many people expected Voldemort to take his war into the open, for the mass killings to increase; but the opposite happened. Voldemort and his followers all but vanished. The only reminder of their existence was the occasional disappearance or death. After the mass murders during the last year, the wizarding community breathed a sigh of relief. Some even believed that Dumbledore's death was what Voldemort had been after for so long, that now he was gone, Voldemort could let the world live in peace.

The members of the Order knew better. Even Ginny knew better. Between the two battles at the Ministry and Hogwarts, the time she had spent with Harry and the few times she had managed to eavesdrop on Harry, Ron and Hermione, she knew enough of the story to know that Voldemort wasn't going away that easily. Plus, some of the disappearances were a little too convenient to be random.

The air around Ginny changed suddenly. She felt a chill and the sky darken dramatically, though there were no clouds in sight. The wind through the few trees in the garden stalled and even the gnomes seemed to be moving in slow motion.

A "pop" from just behind the hedge startled Ginny and she bolted to her feet, hoping to see her mother or Ron and Hermione or even Lupin. Instead, a dark figure stumbled away from her before falling to the ground. Ginny leapt over the hedge and nearly tripped on a gnome. Kicking it away, she knelt beside the figure, recognizing him instantly. He was missing his glasses and his face was scratched severely. She moved to wipe some of the blood off his face, but he knocked her hand out of the way.

"Don't touch – " he rasped. Ginny's eyes filled with tears as she leaned over him. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek –

* * *

Ginny awoke with a start and nearly screamed at the sight of a figure in her bedroom doorway. The combination of the start and the dream was too much; she dissolved into tears.

"Ginny! Gin! What's wrong!" A head of short brown hair bounded into view and Tonks wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl. "Shh…" she soothed, rocking her as if she were a small child.

It felt like hours before Ginny could calm herself enough to talk. Raising her head, she saw Tonks' worried expression.

"Was it a dream again?" she asked quietly. Ginny nodded.

"Ginny, this is, what, the seventh one in less than a month?" Tonks shook her head. "This is getting serious; you need to do something about these dreams." She paused. "And I have an idea…" She trailed off, heading to Ginny's closet. A minute later, she emerged holding a suitcase and her wand.

"Start packing."


End file.
